Part 8
The anticipation was almost agonising. He stared into my eyes with a combination of fear and desire, stroking my cheek with the ball of his thumb. The house was silent and the only sound I could hear was our faint breathing and the cheerful chirping of birds outside the living room windows.
"Do it, Paul," I telepathically pleaded. "Please. I want you to."
His face was only a few centimetres away from mine, his red, full, moist lips so close yet so far. He came closer, very slowly, his lips parting slightly and reaching to meet mine...
The sound of Paul's telephone ringing loudly made us spring back, breaking the atmosphere and mood between us. Clearing his throat, he brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his face and rose from the couch, reaching for the wall phone. My heart was performing a frenzied drum solo at the intensity of the moment that Paul and I had shared. We were so close, so fucking close...he wanted to kiss me. He wanted to touch me. He wanted me, as I realised how much I wanted him. So close, and now the moment was lost. What if we never had a moment like that again? No, we had to. I wanted it. He wanted it. Now that I knew there was something there, a foundation that could be built upon, I wasn't about to ignore it.
"Mmm-hmm," Paul was saying. "Yeah, that's fine, i'm on my way. I just have to finish getting ready...No, I just got tied up with something, that's all...OK, bye."
He put the receiver back in its place and turned to me. We stared at each-other yet again, both knowing what we wanted but unsure about whether one should initiate it or the other.
"That was my drummer," he eventually said, breaking the silence. "The band's waiting for me. Soundcheck's starting early."
"Oh," I said, briefly licking my lips. "Well, would you like a ride?"
He considered this for a moment, leaning on one foot and then the other. "I was just going to catch a taxi, but since you're offering...Thanks." He lifted his mouth into a warm smile, and my heart almost melted all over again. "Well, i'll just get my things together and we'll nick off, alright?"
I nodded, my eyes still fixed on his. He returned the stare for a moment longer, seeming as though he wanted to say something more, but then decided not to say it and disappeared down the corridor. I huddled myself into a corner of the couch and tried to calm my frantic heart. My cheek had a pleasant tingle from where he had touched me, and I ached for his caressing hand to return. The effect he was having on me was incredible. My hunger was left unsatisfied, though. I had to find a way for us to be alone again, with no possible interruptions. I couldn't leave it where it was.
My eyes scanned the living room from left to right. He had extremely good taste in home decoration, particularly in his choices of glorious artworks that adorned the walls. Curiosity made me get up and walk over to one particular work nailed over a mantelpiece with a black frame. I hadn't seen it before and for some reason I had been drawn to it. I ran a cautious finger along its surface, textured in all the right places. My fingertip found a signature on the bottom right-hand corner: Paul McDermott, 1996. Ah, so he was an artist as well - and a very gifted one, at that. As with everything about Paul, I was in awe. How could one man possess so much talent? I dabbled in art every now and then, but only to pass the time, and I could never create art of such a high quality.
"Ready to go?" Paul asked as he emerged from another room. He had tied his hair back into a ponytail with a thin band and changed his clothing. Instead of a simple ensemble of loose maroon jeans and a black shirt, he was back into his stage clothes. This time he was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with a Japanese symbol printed on it in gold threading, a pair of leather jeans with a small gold chain belt, black Doc Martens boots and a collection of four bangles around his wrist.
He noticed me studying him approvingly and smiled. "I'll do my face when we get there. OK, let's go."
After locking up his house and activating the alarm, we got into my car and pulled out of the driveway. The second view of the house's exterior made a similar impact to the first.
"When did you buy this house?" I asked as I steered the car onto the road.
"About six months ago," he replied, winding down the window and pulling a cigarette lighter from the bag he was carrying with him. As he reached for his packet of cigarettes, he paused and looked up at me. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Huh?" I tore my eyes away from the road momentarily to see what he was referring to. "Oh, no, go ahead. I don't mind."
He pulled one cigarette from the box, then motioned for another. "Do you want one?"
"Yeah, thanks. Um, could you light it for me? I've kinda got my hands full here!"
"Mmm-hmm."
While he set to work lighting the cigarettes, I turned on the car stereo, not realising straight away that i'd left Paul's CD inside. As it began playing, Paul immediately recognised that it was his recording and turned his head to me, a delighted grin on his face.
"You've got my CD!" he said, obviously pleased.
I felt slightly embarrassed and was sure that I was beginning to blush. "Yeah, Tez had a copy. He gave it to me this morning."
"So what's your verdict so far?" He held out my cigarette to me, which I took while keeping my eyes on the road.
"Call me biased, but I think it's great." I drew on my cigarette. "How is it selling?"
"Well, the numbers aren't outstanding, but I wasn't expecting anything major. Not from this album, anyway. When I get this new album out on the shelves, the numbers should hopefully increase."
"You're recording a new album already?" Wasn't that a little quick? "But this album's still in its infancy! A few months, right?"
He guffawed. "Try eight months!"
"Eight? I wouldn't have known that from looking at the cover. You haven't changed a bit since that photo."
He gave me a sideways glance, pretending to look hurt. "Oh, gee, thanks a lot!"
Since I wasn't fully looking at him, I didn't realise that he was only joking. "No, no, I don't mean that you look bad! It's nothing like that!"
He began to laugh and playfully slapped my knee. "I know you didn't. I'm just playing with you." After a brief pause he said, "Eight months may be a little quick to start recording another album, but once the creative juices start flowing, they're hard to stop. I've been writing without respite. I have a recording session in a few days...you can drop in to watch if you like. Oh, unless you've got to work...you've got a job, don't you?"
"Well, I guess you could say that, but I don't plan on staying where I am for much longer." I added, "I'm a secretary" with loathing.
"And I take it that's not what you want to do with your life."
"Bingo. I want to do something in the music industry. Artist management, PR, PA, something along those lines." I took another draw of my cigarette and tapped the ash into its appropriate tray. "As long as I don't have to set foot onstage, I'll be happy."
"We'd make a good team then."
"Huh?"
"If we worked together. Me in front, you in back." Paul lowered the sun visor and studied his reflection in the attached mirror, twisting open a small, clear tin of shimmery eyeshadow. "My manager does absolutely Jack Shit for me. I often have to go and set up my own gigs, make advertisements, yadda yadda yadda. He's a nice enough bloke, but incredibly lazy." As he applied his eyeshadow, he chuckled. "Jeez, I can talk a lot, can't I?"
"I don't mind." I turned my head to him with a smile. "I like hearing you talk."
With one eyelid covered in eyeshadow and his index finger dipped in the cosmetic, he returned the smile and teasingly ran the finger down my cheek, leaving a trail of shimmer.
Eventually we arrived at the Metro. After driving in circles trying to find a carpark, we settled for a spot hidden around a corner and farther away from the entry doors than we would've liked. I'd only been to the Metro a few times - with my secretarial position I didn't have much opportunity to go out and party until the early hours of the morning. Weekends could be counted out because I spent most of those hours catching up on my sleep. Once we entered the venue Paul, who had applied a little more of his makeup in the car and would finish the job once he reached the band's dressing room, led me around numerous corners and down long corridors until we finally reached the dressing room. He knocked on the door and waited for a moment before the door was pulled open. Standing in the doorway was a young man similarly dressed to Paul, but had numerous piercings on his ears and had bright, straight blonde hair that fell around his shoulders. He either hadn't seen me or was completely ignoring me, because he looked straight at Paul.
"Hey gorgeous!" he greeted him, pulling Paul in for a hug that seemed too close and cozy to be considered simply friendly. I turned my head to look down the corridor as he held the back of Paul's head and briefly kissed him, feeling my heart sinking.
Part 9